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24 November 2016 @ 12:02 am

Only an artist could paint these moments:
Smoking the smog, barefoot in the cold
Sits on his throne the king of the mornings,
Solving the plights of the young and the old.

Everyone chooses his lot and profession:
Businessmen sell, and traitors betray;
You are a witness, a judge and the questioned;
I am a writer, and so I portray.

Here I stand by this mission enraptured,
Carefully capturing my prototype..
The prototype has forever been captured.
Let us now wait for the plot to be ripe.

And in the meantime, the merchants are trading
Easier efforts for greater results.
They speculate, and I am speculating
If “ever after” can grow from “without”s.